


The First Time She Kissed Him – Mycroft's Point of View

by Blood_Sucker_1428



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5081615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_Sucker_1428/pseuds/Blood_Sucker_1428
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 58 of "A First Time For Everything" from Mycroft's POV. Mycroft and Anthea found themselves in a little bit of a life and death situation and had to run for their lives. Adrenaline does strange things to people. We've seen it through Anthea's eyes, let's see what Mycroft though of the whole thing. Mythea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the Myc POV you've been asking for. And why? Because you guys are the best. What can I say to you but thank you all so much for being supportive of my silly little need to have more Mythea. I really, really hope you like it, though I don’t know why you wanted this one in his POV, it was emotionally taxing to write. Please read, comment, but mostly enjoy because you’re awesome.
> 
> This is Chapter 58 of my Mythea fic “A First Time For Everything” written in Mycroft’s point of view rather than Anthea’s. It could be read without the original but I’d suggest not for back story reasons.
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

 “After you.” Mycroft gesture calmly to the window he’d just smashed open with the walking boot he currently needed to use on his broken leg. He and Anthea were currently trying to flee from what could essentially be called an ambush and assassination attempt, and the only escape route viable was this window.

For a brief second Anthea looked as if she were unsure and going to back out – but the girl being far too strong and trusting for that steeled herself and nodded. She climbed onto the window frame and sat with her feet dangling out the high window. She shoved herself out the window like a small child shoving themselves down a slide. A soft thud was heard and a quick look out the window revealed that Anthea had landed safely on her hands and feet. Though he knew she would, it was assuring to see the brunette get back to her feet and smooth down her skirt – like that really mattered at a time like this. People. Now it was Mycroft’s turn, the issue of course was that he had a broken leg and he knew jumping out the window would cause the injury to take a few steps back, but such facts did not matter when one was running for their lives. Quicker and with far more fluidity than his assistant had, due to experience, Mycroft slid from the window to land on his feet. Mycroft hissed at the burning sensation rocketing up his broken leg as he loss balance and fell. The pain was incredible, far worse than it had felt during the car accident that had caused it, the swelling and bruising still being sensitive. It would not do, however, to let such a pain bring him to a standstill when his and Anthea’s life depended on their ability to get away. Worry flashed over Anthea’s soft features as she rushed over to her boss. The young woman, without so much of a flinch, took hold of Mycroft’s hand and gently helped pull him back into a standing position.

 “Are you okay, sir?” Her voice was full of that concern, such feminine intuition leading her to not move her hand away its place on his arm.

 “Mmm, no.”  Mycroft answered, finding it best not to lie in this situation. He quickly scanned his leg and tested a few movements. Yep, there was definitely some damage done. Oh well, that will be dealt with later, when Anthea wasn’t clinging to him looking so full of fear and concern in those dark eyes. “But we have to keep moving.” As he finished speaking a loud crash, and not the first, came from the building they had just leapt from. Anthea’s eyes sparkled as her whole being lit up, looking around the street.

 “How far is the club?”  Anthea asked, her brain ticking away. Any other time, Mycroft may take a moment to appreciate Anthea coming up with a plan on her own. Not now.  So she wanted to get to the Diogenes Club? She’d probably thought about their cardkeys that allowed them entrance at any time. _Excellent plan, my dear, excellent plan_. Mycroft took a quick scan of their current location and ran possible routes in his head, accounting for alleyways, traffic, and other such variables.

 “Two blocks, a turn right, end of that street turn left, and we’re on the street.” Anthea’s mouth pursed.

 “Can we run that?”

A beat.

_Running, really?_

More gunshots.

 “Absolutely.” It was their only real option. Without a second to think, Anthea’s delicate hand move from Mycroft’s arm and took tight hold of his hand. Closing his grasped on her hand too, the pair began sprinting across the street as fast as their legs would take them. It had been quite a long while since Mycroft had needed to run away or chase after something with such velocity. It was reminiscent of the days when he’d have to do a lot legwork missions just to get his name out there. He hated those days.

As the club came into sight the pain relinquished their tight grip on each other’s hands. Anthea, running as fast as she could, almost ran right into the front door of the club as she gasped for breath. Mycroft swiftly pulled the key card out from its permanent place in his breast pocket and pulled it through the slot on the door. A ting was heard, a green light flashed, and the door was unlocked. In their haste to open it, they’d almost fallen right through the door and into the safety of the Diogenes Club. Mycroft shut the door with heavy force – why he wasn’t entirely sure. Anthea and Mycroft fell back, hearts beating rapidly, breathing fast and heavy, leaning against the door that had just saved their lives.

This door had just saved them. This door separated them from the imminent danger of a gun to the head. Someone, the first person in a very long time had just tried to kill him. When was the last time that happened so directly? When had Anthea ever been threatened like that? And the woman had gotten away practically unscathed. Mycroft broke into a smile against his will as he tried to catch his breath, hands flat against the door. He and Anthea, had just literally ran away from a gunfight. He was fine, he always was. But Anthea. Little Alice Clark who went to a boarding school and was always a little lost in life had jumped out a window, helped her boss up, and dragged him down the street as she sprinted for their lives. And with not a pleat out of place on her black skirt. He couldn’t contain himself, it was the adrenaline and the absurdity of it all. Mycroft burst into what could be called a joyous laughter. For an ordinary person who at the beginning of their career was only given a brief training, and only had a slightly above average IQ, Anthea had been instrumental in getting them out alive. Even this door, this thin little structure that protected them, was her idea. He turned around to tell her how brilliant she’d been, how amazing that was. He’d gone to speak, but there had been something in her eyes that had never been there before.

Anthea placed both her hands on Mycroft’s face, pulling him into a deep kiss, shutting her eyes. Mycroft froze, his whole body turning to rigid stone, under Anthea’s soft, tender hands. What had she just done? Why was she doing this? Mycroft knew he should stop this before it got anywhere and talk Anthea down. Mycroft more than knew that, his brain was yelling at him to get out of her touch, to move, to get to the other side of the room and away from human contact. But his body refused to listen to his mind, not wanting to pull away from those soft pink lips, and the smell of Chanel and exhilaration. His body just wanted to stay put, to feel her thumb stroke his cheek and… It won. His mind gave up, shutting off as Mycroft fell deeply into the kiss, heart thumping in his chest.  He took her gently by her shoulders and pushed her against the wall, essential trapping her between him and it. Her heart thumping just below his, almost in time with it. Anthea threw her hands behind Mycroft’s head and interlocked her fingers on his neck. As if his body was reacting to her own actions, one of his hands found its way into those rich dark chocolate curls while the other leaned on the wall to keep them both standing. Hormones and pheromones flying around the room, as Anthea pulled him further down to her level. Every small action this woman did, Mycroft reacted in an equal manner is if by instinct, like he knew her on such a deep level that their bodies could just connect. Running on instinct, adrenaline, heat, and perhaps a few emotions. Never had he felt as human as he did right now.

_Ring Ring._

_Ring Ring._

The entangled form of Mycroft and Anthea froze as Mycroft’s phone began ringing in his trouser pocket. The sound caused the engines in Mycroft’s brain to begin whirling once more, and the struggle between body and mind continued. He needed to answer that phone, it could be very important. It could mean life or death. But Alice, _Alice_ with her easy gentle touches and her lovely smells, and the warm way she looked at him. Why should he have to pull away from this warmth? Mycroft closed his eyes as he removed his hand from Anthea’s hair and rested his forehead against hers. He needed to answer that phone, he needed to stop this right now. But her hair smelt so good.

_Ring Ring._

Anthea’s hands dropped from Mycroft’s neck, the girl who understood how these very human like reactions worked was preparing to pull away. Surely then, his brain could take control once more, to step out of this warmth and back into the ice. And the phone, it needed to be answered. It would be important. He just needed to file away the smell of her hair first…

Mycroft took out his phone and stepped out of Anthea’s space. He cleared his throat and walked further into the club, letting his carefully created icy persona fall back into position as he pressed answer.

 “Yes, James.”

…

As Mycroft hung up his mobile, Anthea walked over with a tissue in her hand. She almost looked as if not a single thing out of the ordinary had happened today. Her hair was neat, though styled more natural, clothes in place, makeup clean. Though it should noted that it appeared as if she’d readjusted her blouse – the top button only just poking through the whole like she’d done it in a hurry.

Did that mean it had been undone at some point?  
  
Did she do it? Did he-

 _No. Surely not_.

She had that professional look back on her face, playing the perfect assistant as she held out the tissue for him to take, like he had asked for one. It seems they’d both transitioned back into work mode.

 “Wipe your mouth.” She advised, nodding towards his face without a flicker of emotion. Mycroft nodded, took the tissue, and did so, wiping away any lipstick that might be evidence to his little slip. Keeping his face neutral, he examined the tissue and took in the colour of the lipstick. It was one of her older shades – he’d first seen it three months into her working for him. As he tossed the tissue into the nearest waste basket, Anthea pulled out her blackberry and began typing away like she always did. Mycroft suspected it was merely to hold herself together and in character. “I’m going to organise an X-ray for your leg tomorrow.” She spoke very carefully, eyes firmly on the phone. “I’ll try to get it before work one day soon.” She’d began to mumble.

 “Excellent idea.” Mycroft answered, holding his work persona in place. It couldn’t slip now, not when he had work to do. He smoothed down his suit and fixed his tie, can’t look like a mess when one is about to deal with employees. “James and Carol say the threat has been eliminated. I’m going to meet them at the site now.” He sighed, making sure his tie was tucked in correctly. Anthea nodded. She was working hard to stay professional but her eyes showed how much force was going into it – so much more than usual.

 “Do you require my presence, sir?”

_What, and have that warm body sitting in the back of the town car with me?_

 “No, you’re free to go home.” He answered. Though there was work for her to do, he couldn’t risk having her so close. The Chanel alone could be problematic. “Perhaps write out a statement first thing in the morning.”

 “Yes, sir.” The brunette with the flowing curls nodded, sounding the flattest he’d ever heard her. Mycroft faked that carefully constructed half smile before turning to walk to the exit.

_Are you forgetting what can’t leave these doors?_

Ah, right. Mycroft stopped. Time to bring up what they’d both been expertly avoiding since the phone rang. He slowly turned around to face his lovely assistant.

 “Miss James.” He began. Anthea’s mouth quivered faintly and she seemed to swallow hard.

 “Yes, sir.” She squeaked.

_Alice. Don’t, please._

 “What happened… It was –”

 “Adrenaline and human instinct working together.” Anthea forced a smile of her own. “No one was thinking straight, I know.” She was trying to sound sure of her words, but Anthea just couldn’t get the volume behind her voice to make it sound convincing. Even so, she was trying, he could see that. Mycroft tilted his head, eyes focused on Anthea’s. He needed to confirm this.

 “So you understand, then, that this changes absolutely nothing between us?” Mycroft held her gaze as Anthea held her professional smile in place – no sign of her cheek and warmth anywhere near her face.

 “I wouldn’t expect it any other way, sir. Hence saying ‘sir’.” She tried to joke, tried to bring life and light into that smile.

Mycroft nodded.

_Business as usual._

* * *

 

When Mycroft got home he settled down in his sitting room with a glass of scotch, preparing to unwind for an hour or so after such an ordeal before getting sleep. One can’t just jump into bed without sorting and filing such adventurous memories, they would never sleep.

However, as he began to get comfortable the weight of the situation hit him like a tonne of bricks and his whole being sunk into the leather of the chair.

_Oh no._

His face fell as he ran a hand through his hair.

What had he done?

Anthea, with her emotions and high off of the escapade, had kissed him, and instead of doing the correct thing and pushing her away, Mycroft Holmes, the Ice Man, had kissed her back.

He had kissed her back.

His assistant.

Alice Clark who slept in old clothes and made sarcastic remarks at everything.

His one remaining confidant with the absence of Sherlock.

Mycroft had just pushed his one and only friend against the wall.

His friend who already had feelings for him.

What was wrong with him?

This was not good, this was so not good. Mycroft gulped half of his glass of scotch down in one mouthful, wincing at the initial burn. He took a moment as the burning settled before taking a gentler sip of the remaining amber liquid.

This wasn’t something he could just take away – it had happened and was a part of history. He couldn’t change it and now it would change everything. Who knows what it was doing to Anthea’s chemicals and what it would make the young lady feel. She already watched him when he moved about, this could only lead to trouble. It could only deepen her feelings. Those would eventually turn to resentment and hatred as she found them unreturned. She’d have to quit or be fired. She’d be a liability. She wouldn’t be able to look at him.

He’d lose her.

Just like he’d lost Sherlock.

And again, it would be his fault.

He couldn’t lose another person who’d weaselled their way into his life. There was a reason he hated people getting close – it was because losing them could compromise everything you were. There was no room for love or loss when you had a career like his.

This is not allowed to happen. Anthea can’t be allowed to think that anything can be developed so she can become bitter. This must be nipped in the bud. He needed to let her know that these emotions can’t be tolerated, not if he wanted to her to stay, and he so wanted her to stay.

He’d spoken to her – sure. He was also without a doubt certain that when she agreed in the club that it was nothing she meant it, but time likes to twist our memories until they’re unrecognisable. That tiny bit of hurt can become all you remember from that moment. He’d be the man that hurt her.

If he dealt with this somehow, and in a very professional manner. If he talked to Anthea as a boss talking to an employee then maybe some firm ground rules could be set and a deeper understanding could be met. Better yet, perhaps he could remove those fond feelings she had of him altogether and just leave the good bits.

He’d have to do something quickly. Get her to sign something. Yes, surely that could work. He’d need some time to create something suitable.

* * *

 

Anthea barged into Mycroft’s office without so much of a knock on his door.

_Ah, so she’d found the NDA._

One look up to see the fire in Anthea’s eyes was enough to confirm this, and the fact that she wasn’t happy. Hopefully she didn’t want to create a scene, Mycroft was not in the mood for a scene. Not after they’d fallen back into familiar behaviour so easily. Perhaps if he played it down, perhaps if he talked to her in pleasant tones some of that anger would be forgotten. They way dogs automatically wag their tails at high voices and happy tones.

 “Hello, my dear.” Mycroft hummed his usual greeting to his personal assistant. Yet the girl had still come right up to his desk and practically thrown the legal document down the centre of the wooden desktop.

 “What the hell is this?” She demanded, her tone matching the heat in her eyes. Slowly Mycroft peered down at the document, though he knew what it was. It could be nothing else.

 “Ah, yes.” He sung, pretending as if it were at least somewhat of a surprise, keeping up the happy, diffusing tones. “It’s a document I need you to sign.” Anthea folded her arms across her chest, her top lip pulling up slightly. It seems this would take some work, she was not going to be placated.

 “No, I saw that.” Anthea seethed. “I need you to tell me what it was doing on my desk?” What did she think it was doing on her desk? Was this some kind of trick that emotional people used on other emotional people? It’s a document, you read it and sign it. Mycroft closed the file he was working on and folded his hands together on his desk, preparing himself. This would be easier if she’d taken it to lunch to read over, it would have given her time to cool off.

  “If you read it” He was speaking slowly and articulately, demonstrating the stupidity of her question. “You’d see it’s a confidentiality agreement protecting me if –”

 “If I blab to the press or some bigwig about that kiss, I know. I did read it!” It seems he was doing nothing but making her angrier. Surely she saw what he was doing – surely she saw why this was needed. He needed her to know that these emotions are not tolerated. They weren’t allowed. She knew that, what was the problem? Now she spoke to him the way people did when he was a small child, like he was another one of those dullards. “What I want to know is why. It’s. On. My. Desk.” Mycroft pursed his lips, keeping the frown that wanted to cover his face. That tone. You do not speak to a Holmes like they need assistance understanding – they understood more than someone like her or John ever could. He _knows_ where he put the NDA, he doesn’t need the ill treatment. Still, he needed to be careful with what he said.

 “Anthea, you of all people must understand how I can’t let information such as this leak out.” It was true, sure. This couldn’t get out, it would be damaging to them both. It was not his true reasoning, but it was far more understandable. Anthea would understand that they needed protection, right? She looked at him perplexed, curls framing her face as it filled with a confusion. A look like he’d just said something in gobblygook. She shook her head, the curls dancing.

 “I get that. What I can’t understand is after all this time, how can you not trust me?” Mycroft had what only could be described as multiple reactions to this question. One, that he did trust her, more than most people anyway. Secondly, that she didn’t get it, that she couldn’t see why this would keep them both safe, from the press and from each other. He was… well, perhaps a little offended. He scoffed and looked over to the side of the room. How could she not get it? He’d have to play along, maybe her anger would get rid of the unwanted emotions. Maybe her reaction was good, in a way. Maybe he could still save their current relationship.

 “I wouldn’t trust anyone after something like that.” He sneered. Anthea was perplexed, eyes darting about the room. She was shocked and couldn’t understand the whole thing. This was good, Mycroft convinced himself, this could be used to make her forget she ever developed a crush on him. She could go back to chasing her pretty boys and their working relationship would be safe. No hard done, just a few quickly hurt feelings.

 “Oh, okay.” She laughed bitterly and it didn’t sound right coming from her mouth. “So you trust me to be your emergency contact, and you trust me to keep your brother’s secrets, but you don’t trust me not to go to someone maliciously about an accidental kiss that we’ve already agreed didn’t happen?”

A pause.

_What is the best cause of action here?_

A long pause.

If he says yes, if he lets her believe that this is more important than Sherlock, then maybe she’d stop.

 “Yes.” He answered. Anthea looked up to the roof in exasperation and laughed again. This was new, she’d never been so mad and shocked. Bitter laughter did not suit her, it did not suit those kind naughty smiles and knowing humour.

 “You are such an idiot.” Anthea spat.

_What?_

Mycroft felt himself twitch. He slowly tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes onto Anthea.

 _An idiot? Oh no, my dear, you are the one who can’t see it. You’re the one who is oblivious to what is best for us. I’m trying to fix us. I am not an idiot. I am the very polar opposite of the word. How dare you_.

 “Excuse me?” Mycroft asked, his voice in a dangerously low range. The way she was looking at him, it was like she didn’t even know him. It was with the same confusion and hatred that other people looked at him with, not Anthea. The cabinet was allowed to look at him that way, the police were allowed to look at him that way. Anthea shouldn’t look at him that way.

 “Only you would be cold enough to put something so small, so petty, above something as important as your treasured little brother’s life.” The girl shook her head, biting her lip. Mycroft felt that twitch again, that uncomfortable feeling. “Do you really love him as much as you pretend to or is this all a really elaborate act?” It was a pang this time, right in the chest. Anthea had been there after the fall. How could she? How dare she doubt-? No, this aching she was causing was unacceptable. This must be stopped immediately. No one gets to do this. No one. Mycroft got out of his chair and slowly walked to his door and pulled it open. Still holding the doorknob, he turned to face his assistant. To face Anthea, who was supposed to know better. She didn’t apparently.

 “It is far more complicated than that, Miss James, and I suggest you take that contract, sign it, and get back to work before you do something you will regret.” He was controlling his own annoyance and anger, letting only his famous ice seep through. She viewed him like the rest of them did, then she would only be welcomed to that side of him. The girl would be wise to head his advice. Anthea was still sneering as she looked him over, quirking an eyebrow.

 “It’s complicated, is it?” She mocked. “Is it too big for my inferior brain?” She shrugged, crunching up her soft features to pull a face, proving furthermore that she saw Mycroft Holmes as the weird icy genius who put himself on a throne. He just rolled his eyes, what else could he do when he was giving her the Ice Man show she so desperately wanted. Anthea pouted, jutting out her bottom lip, and shrugged once more. “I’m not signing anything.” Such defiance, learnt from her rebellious period when coping with her parent’s death.

Silence fell over the room. Mycroft watched the brunette, with her adamant stance and angry eyes. He watched her with a blank unfeeling expression, just waited for her to crumble, to back down, and to realise who she was speaking to.

 “You have to sign it or you’re fired.” Their eyes locked, both determined, neither backing down.

 “No.”

 “It is not an option, Miss Clarke.” Mycroft almost spat the girl’s real last name as he spoke. The use of the name showed his seriousness, and he was. With the level of insubordination she was showing, with the hatred in her eyes, with her lack of understand of the whole point of the NDA. If she didn’t sign it, she couldn’t stay here. Anthea placed her hands on her hips and dug her heels in.

 “It’s not an option for me to sign it until you tell me what this big complicated reason is.” He didn’t respond. “Don’t worry, if it’s so big my little mind can’t comprehend it I won’t lash out and tell the press that we’ve held hands before.” She gasped jokingly, acting like holding hands was a shocking scandal, and Mycroft felt that chest pang again and his spine run cold.

_Don’t you dare mock me now._

Mycroft allowed the room to turn deathly silent as he scanned the PA once more. She wasn’t backing down. She was playing with the big leagues and she wasn’t backing down. She’d already proven that she didn’t understand him the way he thought she did, what more did she want? No one gets out of this room with the upper hand. Mycroft scowled, feeling the ice flow through his veins.

 “You don’t want to do this Alice.” He was giving her an out, and it was her last chance. “Go back to your desk. Now.” Mycroft ordered, venom dripping from his tongue. Anthea ran a hand through her hair as she took a breath, before those orbs of hers landed back on his face.

 “Thanks to you I’ve been kidnapped and torture. I was in a drug bust. I’ve had to kill people. I helped bring down the greatest criminal mastermind of our time. I’ve even been cheated on and found out about it in the worst possible way.” She through their entire history back in his face. As if he didn’t think about that kidnapping often, as if didn’t have a hatred for Tim he couldn’t quite understand. As if she suspected him to have enjoyed those things. She cocked her head and smirked smugly. “Try me.” Anthea whispered.

She’d pushed the last button. There was no turning back. She wanted to play with fire, well he had to douse the flames. You don’t get to say what you want to Mycroft Holmes and get away with it. She knew that this game didn’t work this way. You don’ get to talk about his personal life like a list of accidents and expect to walk away. Mycroft fell into the shadowy government roll as he adopted his intimidating grin, chuckling as he stepped closer to Anthea. To give the girl credit, she stood her ground, the fool.

She got to say what she wanted about his personal life? She got to hit nerves? He was going to go for the jugular vein. Not just any insecurity, her big one, the one about family and bonds. She touches Sherlock, he gets the parents.

 “You want to know the truth Alice, _my dear_?” Familiar words used for affection filled with such contempt. Her eyes lost heat for a fleeting moment. “The truth is; being orphaned during puberty has left you needy and desperate to find a sense of belonging. The moment someone shows you any love or appreciation you cling on and never let go.” Exaggerated truths. “It’s the reason you were never going to dump Tim even though you found him boring.” Plain and simple truth. “I was afraid that you’ll now place me in a vice grip and if I try to pry myself free you’ll feel betrayed and abandoned. In search of affection, you’ll get your revenge.” Lies mixed with fears of possible outcomes, merely to put the final nail in the coffin.

Anthea’s heat dissipated from her eyes as a cool hurt filled them.

…

Anthea’s hand, her soft hand full of gentle touches, hit Mycroft against the cheek so hard his head was sent rocketing to the side. The utter aching already was strong, heat and blood already rushing to the location of impact. He was furious that she’d slapped him, no doubt about that, but he’d seen how his words had broken her. He’d seen the look of hurt and betrayal that had filled them as he’d finished, the way they’d began to glisten, and that hurt equally as much as the blow to the face had. Her turned back to look at her again. Her eyes were welling up but her anger was returning with the tears.

 “How dare you suggest that I’d ever betray you.” She yelled, pointing her finger right into his face. So that was what had hurt her the most? Really? “After everything I’ve done for you, everything I have sacrificed, you think I’d be so petty?” He couldn’t answer, not after her voice had broken and wavered. “I know you, I know what you’re like. I know how important your job is to you. What would ever cause me to betray you so atrociously?” There was that aching in the chest again. “But maybe I don’t know you. Maybe you’re so cold and icy inside that you presume everyone is as hurtful and as calculating as you are. I’d warn you that in the end you’ll only have your job and no one else but I think that’s what you want.” She was still so angry but she was so broken. He’d broken her. The fragile china doll he’d saved from the kidnappers and pieced back together. He’d broken it again. He hadn’t meant to.

 “Alice.” He’d wanted to reach out and touch her but he couldn’t, he’d just break her further.

 “No!” She spat defensively. “Don’t you dare use my name like that! That’s for the people I love. I don’t need your fake pity.” She ran her hand through her curls. It wasn’t fake pity. He didn’t give out fake pity. It wasn’t even pity. “I put up with so much from you, and you don’t even trust me.” She was losing the fire again as she shook her head. Anthea looked defeated, he had won. “And I deluded myself into thinking that we were friends. Did you know that you are one of the most important people in my life?” The aching in the chest began to eat its way into Mycroft’s stomach and up his throat. “Maybe I was just something to distract you from your boredom. I’m just another goldfish to you. A pet goldfish for you to watch as it swims into walls of the bowl, feeding it occasionally.” As she finished Anthea looked up to the roof and desperately blinked her eyes, trying to stay as dry as possible, afraid to break further in front of the Ice Man. She began heading towards the door but the issue remained. The NDA needed to be sign, for both of them. Why couldn’t she see that?

 “Alice you have to sign the forms if you want to consider yourself employed.” He put no effort into making the words sound menacing, it was just a fact at this point. One cannot make threats if they don’t intend to follow through. As she turned around the girl still looked broken, yet she smiled sadly.

 “Well,” She sighed. “It’s a good thing I have a whole bunch of sick days and paid vacation days built up. I might use it all for a nice break.” She shrugged. Mycroft felt the dread fall upon him, he knew what was to come next, the one thing he had been trying to avoid happening. “I’ll let you know if I’m going to come back or I‘ll let you know when I’m hand in my two weeks resignation notice.”

She was leaving.

Anthea turned back to the door.

_Don’t go._

 “How long?” He was barely above whispering.

 “At least a month.” Anthea breathed shakily. “I might go to Hawaii. Some place warm, get this chill out of my bones.” That hurt, but he deserved it.

She stepped out of the office, slammed the door, and walked out of Mycroft’s life.

She was gone.

She’d left.

And he’d done nothing to stop it.

Anthea had given up and once again Mycroft Holmes was all alone.

_All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage._

And yet, here he was.


	2. The Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, after much procrastination, here’s part two of this POV. After how well received the first part was I knew I had to do this part, but I’ve been putting it off like the plague because I’m so afraid of disappointing you all. But I’d already finished the next chapter and I had the urge to write… and I’ll have to do another POV soon… so I needed to finish this one. I hope it turned out for you guys, I really do. I hope it meets at least some expectations. Thank you for reading <3\. Please read, comment, and enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

James really needed to stop babying Mycroft and tiptoeing around him like he was some sort of broken hearted fool. The man-child thought he was acting normal, but his acting skills were never the strongest in his field. James walked around, giving concerned looks, bringing in cups of teas, and trying his best he could at filling in the role of the assistant. Everything he was attempting to do, he was failing at.

And like Mycroft didn’t know about those concerned phone calls to Jamie Thompson that more often or not ended in arguments and apologies. This was not a fight between two children that the parents had to fix over the phone, this was a misunderstanding between adults that may or may not be fixable.

That’s the thing about life, some things are permanently damaged.

And the look Anthea had given him. That look that tore your heart into pieces…

At the very least, James’ constant phone calls to Miss Thompson could confirm one thing to Mycroft – that Anthea was at Jamie’s, and she was safe, and not alone.

Since she didn’t answer his phone calls, or Walter’s… Or even Carol or James’ apparently.

The idea of the girl with the chocolate curls and the cheeky smile so lost that she didn’t pick up to those she cared about… Well, it was enough to be concerning to anyone.

She was strong – his Anthea, very strong. Young Alice Clarke had been through a lot, leading to an inner strength that would have been strong even without learning to survive essentially on her own. Anthea had impressed him daily with her stubborn attitude when it comes to seeing things through, and her flexibility as far as achieving those goals were concerned.

She’d be okay.

She’d be fine, regardless of what the pain in her eyes had said.

But would she ever come home?

Home… that was a preposterous notion. She was near her home town, she was home. London was where she lived, work was where she spent her time, near Jamie and her friends from school – that was home.

But if she was at home wherever she currently was, then why did here feel empty without her? Why was walking into the main part of the office so hard, knowing she wouldn’t be behind her desk? Why was sitting at home so difficult, knowing she wasn’t lazing on her couch reading some book for the umpteenth time, or burning down her kitchen?

Why did London feel so wrong without Alice Clarke?

No Sherlock, and no Anthea.

This was not London as it should be.

Mycroft would have to do something about this. He needed to stop the nagging in the back of his mind, and the aching in his chest. No Sherlock was something he had to live with, no Anthea could be changed. Most importantly, finding her and bringing her home would get James off his back. He was so sick of the way that blonde boy looked at him. When they’d miss that meeting, you’d swear James had just heard that Mycroft was dying.

No. He needed her back.

He couldn’t deal with James any longer.

* * *

 

 “You sure about this, sir?” James muttered as they approached the front door. Mycroft didn’t even spare him a sideways glance for that comment.

 “Of course I am.” He snapped back. Why would he have come all this way, to Miss Thompsons home, had he not been sure? This was exactly what he had to do. He had to bring Anthea home, or at the very least find out if she ever planned on coming home… to London. The blonde man to his left muttered something incoherently under his breath and tugged on his shirtsleeve nervously. Scared of a little girl, was he?

The front door was snatched open at quite the speed, revealing a quite furious little blonde girl. She placed her hands on her hips and cocked out a hip, hazel eyes dancing with liquid fury.

 “Well, well, the Ice Man cometh.” She fumed, upper lip snarling at the genius in front of her. It took all Mycroft’s decorum not to roll his eyes, and all of James’ strength not to step backwards. They were here to plead their case and not show any great weakness. Mycroft cleared his throat.

 “Miss Thompson –”

 “You have a lot of nerve, showing your stupid face around here.” Jamie interrupted him, pointing a finger so close that she was almost poking him in the chest. How disconcerting. “I should do one better than slapping that stupid face of yours.” Mycroft swallowed his comeback before it could escape his mouth, now was not the time.

 “If you’d allow me a moment to-”

 “I’m not giving you a moment to do anything but leave.” She seethed. You had to give the small lady credit, she was fiercely protective of her best friend, much like a mother bear. Hazel daggers flickered up to James and the man to Mycroft’s side almost faltered. “And you.” She nodded. “You came with him? I’m disappointed with you.” James stepped forward holding one hand in the air, reaching out to stroke Jamie’s arm with the other.

 “Hey, hey, hey.” He tried to calm her down. “I’m not playing sides, here. I came for the free ride to see my girlfriend and see how my friend is… and you know, make sure no blood is spilt.” He was half telling the truth, he’d also been following Mycroft around from the moment he’d called to ask James to fill in for Anthea. Jamie folded her arms against her chest, mellowing at the kind words from her boyfriend. She was pouting rather than scowling by the time James leaned forward to kiss her on her forehead. So easy it was for him to be affectionate.

 “Yeah, well, she’s fine. You can go no.” And yet, they still got nowhere. Mycroft closed his eyes briefly to stop once again from rolling them.

 “Jamie-” He began, only to be cut off again as the blonde girl widened her eyes.

 “Ah, so when you want something, I’m Jamie.” She hummed, tilting her head to the side, mockingly. Jamie was a different creature when angry. “Yeah, it doesn’t work like that Mycie-boy.” Mycroft couldn’t help but scowl at that, and he had a feeling she said it just to make him do so. It was only fair, he supposed. He deserved some punishment for how he’d hurt Anthea, and who else better to be the harbinger of pain but Miss Thompson? James, sensing the animosity building, stepped closer to his girlfriend once more, rubbing her up and down her arm gently.

 “Jamie-doll.” He soothed gently. “At least let me in.” Ah, good tactic. Mycroft knew there was a reason he kept James around. “We drove, we took a long time to get here.” The two blondes held each other’s gaze for a long moment. James silently begged and pleaded while Jamie was just searching for a reason to say no. Mycroft dared not even move, lest he destroy James’ plan. Eventually Jamie groaned, those hazel eyes rolling into the back of her head in annoyance. She looked into her house and waited for something, a confirmation from Miss Clarke no doubt, before stepping out of the way enough to let a single person squeeze through the doorway.

 “Alright, you big lug.” Jamie bemoaned. “You can come in. Frosty the Snowman has to stay put.” Her hazel eyes narrowing on said Snowman. Which, by the way, was a new one. Mycroft was quite surprised by that. Well done on using your brain, Miss Thompson. Giving Jamie a pleased, and completely unnecessary, kiss, James stepped into the house.

Unsure as to what was happening within the confines of Miss Thompson’s rental property, Mycroft stood outside as Jamie leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed against her chest, eyes boring into Mycroft’s skull. The man looked down at his shoes, did a couple of simple deductions on the way Jamie lived, deduced what Jamie and Anthea must have gotten up to the night before based on Jamie’s appearance, played with his umbrella… and waited. He hated waiting, he hated not knowing if James was successful or not. Most of all, he hated Jamie having an upper hand over him. This was not meant to happen.

A muffled voice was heard as Jamie turned to peer back into the house. She stepped closer in as a look of annoyance and shock crossed her face.

 “Oh come on, Ali. Don’t get sucked back in!”

 “I’m not, don’t worry.” It was quiet and distant, but that was the voice of Alice Clarke, alright. And she sounded fine. Tired, maybe, worse for ware, definitely, fine, absolutely. Jamie looked from the two people in her house and back to Mycroft, her brain ticking away in her tiny head, trying to come up with any reason to say no. Apparently she couldn’t think of one, because she finally groaned and grumbled in defeat and moved out of the doorway to allow Mycroft entrance. He went as far as the entrance to the family room where Anthea currently sat on the couch.

Alice Clarke… Always so astounding to gaze upon. She sat on the couch in a black sweater and ridiculous plaid trousers, loose natural curls pushed behind her back – looking just as lovely as she did every day at work. And he was so glad to see that sparkle of defiance and a little bit of anger in her eyes, but she looked so sad… so sad. The broken china doll hadn’t managed to completely piece itself together. It was missing a piece of two. Those pieces being Anthea James, maybe? Was she preparing to just patch it up with anything she had lying around, or was she going to leave it open, like she had when her parent’s death had made her lose a piece. Hoping for something to come along and fill that missing piece of china.

Anthea, arms folded across her chest, bottom lip jutting out, turned her head in the smallest manner, but sharply enough to demonstrate her anger and impatience. Ah, he was staring, then. She probably would accuse him of deducing her or searching for a weak point. Mycroft cleared his throat, twirling his umbrella absentmindedly as if it were some mental crutch for him.

 “Miss Clarke.” He nodded. Anthea quirked an eyebrow. Was that at the choice of name? Or just at him in general?

 “Mr. Holmes.”  She replied, fiercely and coldly. James scratched the back of his head, wincing nervously, as he looked between the two usual work partners.  Growing up with all sisters had mad that man very sensitive to raised emotions. When he didn’t shut it off for missions, of course.

 “Hey, Jamie…”  The agent whined in a high pitched tone that Mycroft was certain would drive dogs crazy. “Why don’t you show me that garden down the road you’re always talking about?” Ah, in for the distraction again. Good man. Jamie pouted, shaking her pretty little blonde head.

 “I’m not leaving Ali alone.” The protectiveness not slipping for a second. James once again touched Jamie’s arm – apparently he’d located a touch that made her susceptible to suggestions.

 “We’re just going down the road, we won’t be far.”  Mycroft looked down to his umbrella, watching the tip dance in the carpet – if Jamie caught him watching it may lead to her staying just to be defiant.

 “Well, okay.”  Jamie huffed, allowing herself to be guided to the front door by James. “But if he makes her cry again I will punch him.” There was that pain in his chest again. “That’s not an empty threat.”

With that James and Jamie left the house, leaving the woman previously known as Anthea James with her former boss. The room was thrusted into silence.

Time passed with no interaction of any sort, not even a single movement lest it make some sort of noise. Mycroft looked around the room, taking in everything he could about Jamie, and particularly what Jamie and Anthea had been doing over the past few weeks. Not going out too much apparently. Anthea was tapping her leg, looking at anything but Mycroft, her agitation growing. Eventually Mycroft gestured o the arm chair not far from where he was standing, and diagonal from Anthea on the couch.

 “May I?” He asked with a gentle tilt of his head. Anthea looked over the chair as if it were offending her in one way 0or another, before turning to the turned off television screen.

 “I’m sorry.”  She seethed. “You have to sign a contract to sit down.” Ouch. Mycroft quirked his eyebrows and took a deep breath as he let Anthea’s barb dig in. He nodded, accepting it, as he walked over and sat in the armchair regardless. Clearly he wasn’t getting permission.

 “I’ll admit, that was warranted.” He spoke softly. Anthea scoffed, the revulsion barely hidden off her face. To be completely honest, that look hurt more than he words had. The problem with letting people close to you is that began to hurt you with simple glances and refusals to glance over. It was not worth it.

But if it wasn’t worth it, then why did Mycroft sit awkwardly in the old armchair for another few minutes in silence, waiting for Anthea to cool down? Really, if he were as smart as he claimed to be he’d just go home and deem this a lost cause. But she looked so hurt. Mycroft twirled his umbrella and Anthea closed her eyes, doing her best not to wince in the presence of the Ice Man. Mycroft licked the bottom lip, preparing to barter.

 “It’s been two weeks, Alice.” He spoke very calmly and collectedly – trying to come of nicer than usual but not make her think he was tiptoeing around her. God forbid she thought he was trying to treat her gently, she’d eat him alive for that. Anthea sarcastically widened her dark eyes.

 “I know.” She heaved. “I said at least a month, I know you remember that.” Mycroft closed his eyes, letting the sharp words wash over him. When he opened his eyes Anthea was no longer looking at him. Mycroft continued swirling the umbrella in his grasp – perhaps a little like a crutch.

 “You haven’t been answering your phone call.” That was a stupid statement to make. They’re both well aware that she hadn’t been answering her phone. That was a statement only dullards make.

 “And you’re pretty ballsy trying to call me.” See, that was a far better statement. He deserved that come back. Still, he was here for a reason.

 “Alice.” Mycroft sighed at her jabs.

 “What?” She dared him, her dark eyes narrowing dangerously on the telly, her leg tapping fast. She was getting more and more irritated by his presence and his utter stupidity. How was he ever going to fix the broken china doll when she was the one who did his negotiations for him? Mycroft closed his eyes and softly groaned.

_Just ask her, you idiot. It’ll be easier and painless if you just say it. Like ripping off a Band-Aid…_

_Actually, Mummy ripping off Band-Aids always hurt, regardless of speed…_

_Bad analogy. Just ask her back to London._

 “When are you coming home?” It sounded venerable. He hated that.

 “I am home.” Anthea replied automatically, fast and cold, like a robot. Mycroft clicked his tongue, looking down to his umbrella. He looked back up, watching her carefully.

 “Alice.” Anthea’s head twirled around, dark eyes fierce, meeting cool steel.

 “What?” Her voice was low and in a warning tone, it broke him a little.

 “I-” He started only to stop himself.

_Let’s think about this carefully, Mycroft. If you say the wrong thing then there’s a high probability of never seeing Anthea again._

_So what is the best thing to say, do you think?_

_We could try the truth. That’s a novel idea._

Mycroft scratched the edge of his eyebrow with his ring finger.

 “I need you back at the office.” Anthea sniffed, pulling her arms closer to her chest.

 “Can’t you train another goldfish to do my job?” It was harsh, but he could hear the pain behind the words. “One’s just as good as the other. You know how people replace fish and no one ever notices the difference? You could do that.” Now, that. That comment made Mycroft’s heart ache in so many ways, he couldn’t even count. He couldn’t just replace Anthea. No one would be Anthea. Who would make wry little comments about everything that happened? Who would remind him when he was working too hard? Who would turn up at his house just to be annoying? Anthea couldn’t be replaced. Only Alice Clarke could be Anthea James.

 “Alice.” Nothing else would come out of his mouth, as the ache encompassed him.

 “What?” She snapped, her voice raising in volume, dark eyes searching his face. Mycroft tried not to wince as he pinched the bridge of his nose. How can he explain how important she was to him?

 “You’re not a goldfish.” He sighed. Anthea rolled her eyes, faintly shaking her head.

 “Isn’t everyone a goldfish to you?” She mumbled, random burst of anger dissipating.

 “No.” Mycroft answered honestly. “You’re not and I’m hurt by the accusation that you think I view you as such.”

 “You’re hurt?” Anthea laughed bitterly. “Do you realise how much you hurt me?”

_Oh Alice, you have no idea how aware I am._

Look at all of those cracks in that fierce woman – of course he knew.

 “Yes, I know.” Mycroft closed his eyes, trying to come up with something to say. How to convince Anthea that he was being honest – that she was irreplaceable. He could try facts – facts always worked in his family. “And when or if you come back there will be no contract. It’s already shredded and the files deleted.” Anthea ran her fingers through her hair and took a sharp breath, clearly frustrated. Apparently that hadn’t worked.

 “It wasn’t the NDA, Mycroft.” Her voice was softer as she rubbed her temples with her ring and index finger. “I mean, it was, but it was what it meant.” She turned back to look Mycroft in the eye. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I acted on impulse but I didn’t act alone. I didn’t mess up my hair.” Yes, he knew that. He knew he messed up badly. But that’s why he tried to fix it! “That NDA. That being placed on my desk said to me that you blamed me.” But he didn’t. He really, really didn’t. “That said you didn’t trust me. That said you viewed me no higher than you view everyone else. You twisted the knife, Mycroft. You made yourself perfectly clear.” She had to blink to clear the water in her eyes, sending a few tears down her cheeks. That and her words had hurt Mycroft in a profound way he couldn’t quite explain.

_This is why I warn against caring about people. You all end up hurt in the end. Look at her, crying, and look at you sitting here with your bleeding heart. Pathetic._

But it wasn’t pathetic. Not when a strong force of nature had been broken by a stubborn man.

 “That’s not what I was doing –” He tried to reason.

 “No,” Anthea shook her head. “What you were doing is pushing the crazy orphan girl away from you. This little leach on people. You wanted it far away from you and your solitude. I forgot. Apparently I had you in a vice grip.” Mycroft clicked his tongue and looked to the side of the room. She believed that? Really?

 “That’s not true, and you know it.” He remarked, perhaps a little too harshly.

 “Really?” She sneered. “Because you certainly made me doubt every friendship and relationship I’ve ever had.”

 “Of course not.” Mycroft scoffed. “You understand loss at a deep level many people never do until later in life. You don’t cling, you appreciate everyone and don’t want to lose anyone else if you can help it.” Mycroft glared at his umbrella as Anthea watched him carefully. He sounded too much like Sherlock right now. “Don’t you see, I was trying to hurt you?”

 “Why?” Her question was raw and open. She was willing to listen.

 “Because I wanted you to get out of the room and leave me alone.” Anthea scoffed. She can scoff all she likes, it was the truth.

 “Why?” She asked again.

 “Because I didn’t want to tell you why I created the NDA.”

 “Why?” She asked again, a little edge returning. Mycroft looked into Anthea’s eyes, looking to see why she couldn’t just see through him and find the answer herself. She was going to make him say everything, wasn’t she?

 “Come now, Alice.” He muttered, begging her to just find the truth on her own. This was hurting him as much as it hurt her now, and he didn’t like it.

 “Come now, Alice, what?” Anthea pried. “What is it, Mycroft?” He gripped harder onto the umbrella, looking down upon it.

 “Don’t make me say it.” He pleaded. Just find it on your own, Anthea. You’re so good at that. The girl cocked her head to the side.

 “Say what?” He eyes narrowed. “Something human and emotional?” Anthea gasped and placed a hand over her heart, mocking Mycroft. “God forbid.” Mycroft scowled to himself. There was no getting out of it. She was indeed going to make him say something emotional…

 “You know –”

 “No, I don’t know.” She interrupted, big dark eyes looking at him openly. “I can honestly say I have no clue why you’d lie and try to hurt me rather than telling me the truth.”

 “Because I didn’t want to lose you.” The truth fell out of Mycroft’s mouth before he had a chance to stop it – his whole being not wanting Anthea’s anger to raise again.

Anthea’s face fell into a look of confusion as she frantically looked across the room, he mind not comprehending the idea that the Ice Man didn’t want to lose someone. The look of confusion gave way to an almost empty and numb look as she shook her head, turning back to Mycroft.

 “What?” She breathed, eye twitching once. Mycroft heaved a sigh as his eyes dropped to his umbrella. Okay, so maybe his umbrella had developed into something of an emotional crutch. It was better than talking to a skull for your only companionship.

 “What happened that evening in the club,” He breathed, forcing himself to look up and meet Anthea’s eyes. She needed to see his face for this, she needed to be able to believe him. “It will change things, despite our best efforts to ignore it. I can’t have that.” He stopped to look away briefly. He just needed to compose himself – to prepare the words in his mind, to be able to open up just a little. “Change.” He muttered, looking back at Anthea again. She was biting the inside of her lip as she listened carefully. “I thought it over, and over, Alice. All possible outcomes lead to you eventually leaving. I’ve already lost my brother.” No, let’s not go there, that was a sensitive area. Stop, re-evaluate the direction of the speech and start again. “I don’t like change, Miss Clarke.” Anthea looked down to the floor. “In my mind the NDA would not only mean that no one else would find out about what happened but it may be enough to repel you. Perhaps get rid of that crush forever. If that were to happen then everything could just stay as it has been for years.” There was that aching encompassing his chest again. It made him want to loosen his tie just to be able to breathe. It stopped him in his tracks momentarily. “No Baker Street, and no assistant typing away on her blackberry in the town car.” Mycroft shook his head at the thought. That was not a life he was looking forward to. Anthea did that nervous action of hers – the one where she tucks her hair behind her ear. She looked up to the roof – clearly clearing her eyes of any tears once again.

 “Did you really not see how incredibly hurtful that was? Did you not see how much that said you didn’t trust me?” A quiver in her tone made Mycroft wince. Of course he trusted her. He trusted her with Sherlock’s fall. He trusted her so much.

 “Emotions have never been my strong suit.” She knew that. “Though I must say, I did have the sense physically knocked back into me.” A single laugh escaped Anthea’s mouth as she sniffed. It was enough to elevate some of that chest pain and make it easier to breath. She looked down from the room as she and Mycroft exchanged the tiniest of smiles. Get her to laugh – it always worked wonders. It was an ace in the hole. He always forgot that.

Silence lulled again as Anthea stared at nothing, lost in her thoughts and trying to clear a path through them. Mycroft sensed she was on the precipice of changing her mind. He just needed to remind her that London was home. It _was_ home. He sat forward on the edge of his seat.

 “Look, my dear. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you like that.” Anthea blinked, the apology catching her off guard. “I got carried away with my own selfish agenda and did not consider how deeply I could cut you.” He thought she’d guard her jugular better, he thought his bite was less sharp. “I didn’t want to lose the best PA I’ve ever had and somehow I managed to do that anyway.” He spoke facts – facts always worked in his house.

A beat.

_Try again. Ask her back. Now’s the time._

 “So will you just come home to London, and come back to work?” Anthea pursed her lips as her eyes searched his. He could sense her inner turmoil – one side of her still defiant to the man who had broken her again, the other side willing to give this stray dog another chance inside the house.

 “Yes.” She answered carefully. Mycroft visibly relaxed only to have Anthea raise a finger in his face. “But I have conditions.” But of course… Mycroft ran his tongue over his top row of teeth. This was to be expected. How did the saying go? Once bitten, twice shy?

 “Very well,” He hummed with a single nod. “List them.”

“Saturdays are half days now. It can be morning or afternoon but they’re half days.” She stated. “If you want me to move on, I need time to meet new people and hang out with my little list of friends.” _Friends_... Less time with Anthea… Hmm. Mycroft didn’t quite like the sound of that, but he pouted and nodded regardless. “I’m your PA, not your babysitter. I’m not looking after you anymore. Don’t argue, you know I do. The diet is your business and I couldn’t care less if you’re eating or sleeping correctly. I’m telling you in the morning what time I’m going to have my lunch break. I’m not asking and I’m not going to ask if you want to come. You forget to eat, fine.”

 “That’s fair.” Mycroft muttered in agreement. It wasn’t all what he would like, not in the slightest, but if it meant having Anthea back… Then he could eat by himself.

  “I get that I’m on call all weekend but if I’m out with a valuable friend I haven’t seen in a long time, like Robbie, then I reserve the right to argue with you and stay put until I can get out of it. You have more people under you to do your bidding.” She took a deep breath. See, this is why Anthea did Mycroft’s negotiations for him – it was hard to argue with her. “And finally. I never ever want to feel like a goldfish ever again.” Mycroft’s hand tightened on the umbrella handle at the mention of goldfish. She wasn’t one, she’d never be one.

 “They’re all quite achievable.” He nodded.

 “And I’m finishing the week here. I’ll be back on Monday.” She wasn’t done. Mycroft felt a small panic raise in the back of his throat. He kept his cool, simply cocking his head slightly.

 “Really?” He questioned.

 “Really.” Anthea nodded.” “I told you a month and it’s been two weeks. Five more days without me is not going to kill you or destroy the country.” Mycroft pulled on his cufflinks. It _might_ kill him. James might kill him. Or he might kill James.

 “Certainly.”

 “Good.” She nodded sharply.

Oh! He still had the necklace…

From the moment Mycroft had walked out of his office that first day and found Anthea’s necklace sitting on the desk, he’d felt like he’d been the one smashed into little pieces. He’d scooped it up and placed it in his breast pocket. Each night it would go on his night stand, only to be placed in the next day’s suit pocket just in case Anthea turned up that day. She didn’t.

 “One last thing, Alice.” Mycroft hummed as he dug into his breast pocket and pulled out the delicate sapphire droplet necklace. Dark, unique, and pretty, just like Anthea. Anthea subconsciously held out her hand as Mycroft placed it gently in her grasp. “That was never a gift of pity, nor was it to placate you, or reward the behaviour of a pet.” Mycroft spoke open and honestly, from the bottom of whatever heart he still might possess despite his best efforts to get rid of it. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I saw it and could see it on no one but you.” Anthea’s hand closed tightly around the necklace protectively as she smiled warmly but still full of melancholy.

 “Thank you.” She breathed softly. “But I’m still mad at you.” She spoke firmly. “This isn’t going away overnight. You can’t get away with murder.” Well… He could quite possibly get away with murder, but he knew he wasn’t getting away with this. The damage was already done, he was just trying to superglue the last few pieces back together. It would never be the same, but it would still be just as good.

 “Yes, well.” Mycroft twirled his umbrella. “I’ve made a start.”

James was dragged back into the room, practically dragging his heels, but the precocious Jamie as she held his hand.

 “Sorry,” The agent sung as the came into the living room, voice full of sincere sympathy and regret. “There’s only so long looking at flowers and kissing can distract her.” Well, he’d given Mycroft enough time to get Anthea to agree to come home and really, he can’t complain. James worked to the best of his abilities on all tasks, after all.

 “Mmmm-hhmmm.” Jamie folded her arms across her chest, full of moxie. “And Genuis’ time is up.” Was it just Mycroft or did Jamie’s use of nicknames only increase when she was angry? How odd. She cocked her head to the side and smiled a smile so full of venom, a red back spider would be jealous. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises now.” Mycroft raised his eyebrows at Alice as the girl accidentally smiled in response. This felt something akin to normal. It was… a nice change.

 “Very well, Miss Thompson. It is your rental property, after all.” Mycroft sighed as he stood up, leaning on his umbrella as he lifted his still slightly achy foot off the ground. “Come along, James.” The agent winced, causing Mycroft to quirk an eyebrow, just waiting for whatever the agent was afraid to say.

 “Actually, sir.” He sounded like a child explaining his thought process to a parent when he was caught doing something wrong. “I was going to stay the night and catch the train home tomorrow.” He rubbed his neck as he tried his best to explain. “I came all this way to see ‘Thea and Jay. I kind of wanted to take them out to dinner or something. Spend the night with the girls.”

 “Oh.” Mycroft nodded. Ah… well… At least James here with Anthea to stop Jamie speaking bad 0of him was something relatively positive. Still… “I suppose I can’t blame you for such a thing. I know what you people are like with your _relationships_.” Jamie rolled her eyes, Anthea’s smile grew slightly more. “I’ll have Walter pick you up from the station tomorrow.” He began walking to the door. “James, Alice.” He nodded. “Jamie” He added as if it were an afterthought.

 “Einstein.” Jamie slammed the door right as Mycroft made it outside, just missing clipping his back.

And he was alone.

As always.

But James was returning tomorrow.

And Anthea would be back on Monday.

Then everything would be perfect.

With the absence of Sherlock, of course. But Anthea made up for that… just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tries to catch her breath* There, I did it! And even with scenes cut out, it’s about the same length as Anthea’s chapter. Stupid wordy Mycroft. What did you think? Was it okay? I hope it was okay, because I love you guys! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have physiotherapy to do…
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read or commented on the first part of this, both parts, or even read a single chapter of “A First Time For Everything”. I love you all so very much. You make my days brighter and I love brightening your day. Thanks for being awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> So? What did you think? Did it clear a few things up? What do you think about Myc’s side now? I was writing when my best friend was over and I just kept saying “Lauren, I don’t want to write this part!” because it was hard feeling what both of them were feeling. Let me know your opinions! If you’re really good, I’ll eventually do the second half ;).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has even just read a chapter or two of “A First Time For Everything”, you all are awesome. I’m not sure I’d be coping so well with my post-operative physiotherapy if I didn’t have this fanfic and the Sherlock fandom to keep me going.


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